Last Minute Save
by RavingBabbit
Summary: Evans makes a last minute save.  His name is Dave Karofsky.  Save.


Last Minute Save

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><p>It happens when they're alone and their lives sort of suck.<p>

Sam Evans and Dave Karofsky are changing in the locker room when Sam Evans notices how much his stomach hates him for not eating before practice and how much he doesn't care about going straight home with his dad out of town for a couple days.

Despite the fact that they don't talk to each other, Sam is hungry and he thinks about how much Quinn looks close to tears when she sees him and how Santana's been on her period for the past couple of eternities-so no way is he calling up either of them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam notes that Karofsky is taking a monumentally long time to get his shit together in his duffle. The guy is probably still in hot water with his family over his suspension. When Sam recalls why Karofsky is suspended, he hesitates, but then he sees something he didn't expect to see. Karofsky's eyes are bloodshot and he's staring off at some lockers with an expression that-if Sam didn't know any better-struck him as really, fucking sad.

"Hey Dave," Sam says casually into his locker. "I got Civ 5. You wanna grab burgers and chill at my place?"

In the empty locker room, his voice carries a bit of an echo, so there's no way Karofsky couldn't have heard him. Sam can understand the dude's confusion. After all, prior to Hummel transferring out of McKinley, Sam had tried to kick his ass. However, if Sam's hunch is right, Karofsky would say yes, if only to get a breather from his parents being disappointed in him and stuff.

"Um, yeah. Lemme call my dad," Karofsky says, after a beat. He takes his phone out before stepping out of the locker room. Before the door swings completely closed, Sam can hear him say,"Dad, I know I'm grounded forever but..."

Something about how Karofsky says it makes Sam smile a bit, because he totally called it. When Karofsky walks back in, he looks a lot less mean than he usually does. "Do you mind giving me a ride? My dad yanked my keys."

"Yeah, no probs dude. Actually, makes it easier 'cuz I suck at giving directions," Sam says. He leads the way to his Honda and throws open the back seat door to dump his junk. After Dave does the same and they get the preliminary seat adjustments out of the way, they're on their way to-

"Wendy's," Karofsky says. "I got a ton of coupons in my bag." Then, surprisingly, he tells Sam about how Azimio, roaring drunk, told the workers at Wendy's how much McDonald's sucked for being closed, like, yelled "MCDONALD SUUUUCKS" and that's how they got a boatload of coupons.

"Cool beans," Sam says. So they order double everything with big frosty shakes, and Sam grins at the slack-jawed girl who has to hand him two bags overflowing with fries and a tray that wants to give under their jumbo drinks and shakes. Sam's used to being hot, so he says "Thanks, beautiful" politely and drives off with Karofsky shaking his head.

Sam mentally sends an apology to his dad when him and Karofsky get to his room. He's glad that his dad pressured him into cleaning his room. Otherwise, they'd have nowhere to put the food and all the wrappers and boxes involved.

"So gooood," Sam practically moans into his triple cheeseburger. "Except that In-and-Out will be my one true love."

At Karofsky's confused look, Sam explains: "It's a west coast chain. In-and-Out Burger. They got this thing called a Furry Animal..."

Instead of playing Civ 5 on Sam's Xbox, they end up playing Pokemon Black version.

Sam sits there as Karofsky grinds his way through the wild Pokemon, and scarfs down the food to hide his amazement that a big dude like Karofsky would pick cutely warped Japanese toons over killing people. His distinct impression of Karofsky is not too far from what New Directions thinks of jocks like Karofsky: generally out for geek blood.

"Is that a... a fucking pig bunny?" Karofsky grunts before using his starter Pokemon to decimate wild bird and rat-types.

"It's Pokabu," Sam explains.

They talk about practice, how much Abrams would be a better kicker than the one they got, upcoming tests, and food places that Sam hasn't tried in Lima. The topics are peppered with Karofsky's charming descriptions of new Pokemon followed by Sam naming that Pokemon before Karofsky gets out the Pokedex.

At some point, Sam realizes that he's got a huge streak of ketchup running down his shirt. It's his turn to grind through the caves, so he puts the remote down and quickly tugs off his shirt, before unpausing. The only thing he notices is the sound of Karofsky slurping up the last of his shake, but he gets this feeling that he gets when he's being stared at. There's a lapse in the small talk, and Sam thinks about how to bring it up without being punched in the face.

"I don't get it," Karofsky says. "My bro hits you with blue slushies because it looks like a Smurf jizzed in your hair, and I got Hummel to peace out to homo-Hogwarts. I thought you and all those other mouthbreathers would gang up on me again. Right now. I mean, I'd pwn you guys again..."

It shouldn't surprise Sam that Karofsky is up-front about it, given how up-front Karofsky is about spilling blood on the turf.

"Uh, yeah, I'm not sorry about sticking up for a friend, but maybe it was dumb to go after you and make a scene. That was a dumbass thing to do," Sam says. "We could've handled that a lot better... but you gotta admit that Artie's got balls. I'm glad you didn't hurt him."

"Picking on Hot Wheels is kinda soulless," Karofsky grunts. "I'm sure they got a special hell for me for flipping him outta his chair."

As the chipper bicycle theme starts playing, Sam keeps his eyes carefully on the screen as he asks,"Why'd you do it, Dave? Did Kurt do something to you?"

Karofsky's quiet for a long time, and Sam is unable to keep his Trout Pout closed. "I mean, Kurt comes off as being a bitch because he really is. He and Jonesy used to pick on Rachel something awful, and Jonesy and Tina talk about how pushy he used to be with Hudson. Like, perving on Hudson for a whiles. Did he do that to you in middle school or-"

Sam's not sure what he's hearing, but it doesn't sound very nice. It sounds like Karofsky's laughing, except that he's way out of practice. Sam unexpectedly wants to pat Karofsky on the back. "Yeah, right. Hummel's way too shallow to look at me like that. I'm sweaty, fat, and balding."

Sam's mouth twists into a wide grimace. "Ooh, he burned you? Sounds like something he'd say." Sam debated pausing the game, except that he really wanted that gym badge. "But, like, that's not really a good reason to beat up on him. He's such a little guy. I always feel terrible when I bump him or step on him for our dance numbers. Before he bailed, I was always a little afraid he'd bitch me out for sucking hardcore. Or worse, cry if I made him break a nail, ya know?" Sam quietly sent an apology to Kurt, but talking smack might get Karofsky to smack-talk and then talk for reals.

"Yeah. He's little," Karofsky admitted, and there was something trailing and spiraling in that tone that made Sam pass over the controller because, damn it, he'd gotten schooled while waiting for Karofsky's answer. He seemed a little relieved to be pushing buttons again, and Sam watched Karofsky's face through peripheral view. That look that Sam had seen earlier in the locker room was back on Karofsky's face.

"He's like a girl," Sam said. "Not like any guy I've met. I swear half his stuff is from a girl's store. But that's not why I don't like him. He's kinda whiny, and mean before you prove yourself in Glee." Sam took in a deep breath, and thanked his dad for paying for his kick boxing lessons. "When I first moved here, I thought about going for it. Kurt talks like a bitch, but he's pretty like one, too. If I wasn't afraid of my balls in his vice-grip, I'd be all over him."

Karofsky was immediately on his feet, and Sam was a tad miffed that he threw down the controller without pausing. The frantic Poke battle theme played on loop as they faced each other down.

Sam Evans: You startled the Fury!

"What the fuck is this?" Karofsky growled. "Are you coming out to me, fucking fag?"

"Not really," Sam said, shrugging. "I've always swung both ways. I'm just... not obvious about it."

"Keep your goddamn faggy hands to yourself," Karofsky hollered. He probably would have whaled on Sam and stormed out of the house, except... Sam was his ride, and not in the gay sense.

Sam stared evenly into Karofsky's red and twisted features. "You can't catch homosexuality, Dave. Are we going to talk it out like civilized human beings, or am I going to have to punch you in the eye and let you walk home?"

"Oh my God, you planned this," Dave said, after an intense stare down. He looked around the room wildly as though he wanted to flip shit, and he probably did, except that trashing Sam's consoles would be blasphemy and expensive.

"Well, no, I'm not that smart," Sam admits. "I did want to talk though. Was hoping you wouldn't end up playing Smear the Queer."

"What's there to talk about? Hummel's a gay little shit. Of course I gotta pick on him. He's gotta know he's wrong," Dave bit out.

"You threatened to kill him, Dave, for being who he is. That's a hate crime," Sam said. "At my old school, you'd be out on your ass, pushing for a school out of state because there's no way anyone would let you back in with a hate crime on your permanent record."

Karofsky barked out that laugh of his. "Oh please. Like it's my fault that he fucking believed me when I said I'd kill him. He was being all sensitive and crap about one little comment I made."

"Dude, are you kidding me? You give him the star treatment, on top of the dumpsters and slushies," Sam said, trying to make up for all the smack-talk he'd done about Kurt earlier. "The team pushes him around, but you're the one who makes him hit the floor. More than half the time I see you walk by him, you are always grabbing him, always looking at him, and it's worse when he's got girls cuz you can't-" Sam stopped short, and he blinked once or twice as a guilt, clear and dark, drained the blood out of Dave's face.

"Why are you always grabby with Kurt?" Sam asked, quirking his head.

"It's not me," Dave said, the words shaking almost as much as Dave's fists. "He's the one who- he's the one who's being all gay."

"So he liked you like you?" Sam asked skeptically as he recalled Dave's words from earlier, really puzzled now.

"He wouldn't touch me with a 20 foot maypole!" Dave roared. He had one hand clamped firmly around his right fist. "I'm too sweaty and chubby and likely to be bald by the time I'm 30! That's what that little bitch had the nerve to say to me. He had the balls to turn me- Why do you care?" That blank, stoney look of his wasn't quite fully on. Sam was starting to see the cracks.

"He did hurt you," Sam concluded. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know."

"The hell? There's nothing to know! I'm Big D, motherfucker. I'm going to kick your ass-"

"Is that all you want to do with it?"

Dave took a step back as Sam flipped his blond strands out of his eyes and hooked his thumbs into his jeans pocket. Sam was fully aware that his shirt was on the floor.

"N-no, I'm not like that-"

Whatever else Dave said was lost to Sam as the blond went to his door and shut it, despite knowing that they wouldn't be interrupted with his dad out of town. Sam turned to face Dave and then he had to lean on the door because the way that Dave was eying him up and down caught him way, way off guard. His bottom lip was between his teeth before Sam really thought about it, and he felt his cheeks burn from the hunger that shined in his team mate's eyes.

Sam had forgotten what it was like to be looked at, like that, from another guy. From a bigger guy.

"Hey," he said, and he was being sort of a girl by letting his eyes get all droopy, but he knew that he wasn't going to be punched in the face.

Sam willed himself to breathe in and out as Dave stalked up to the door. "Quit playing, Evans. Let me through."

"No, you let me in," Sam said. He tilted his head up and his heart nearly stopped at how _torn_ the other guy was.

"I'm not," Dave said. He repeated himself. He shook his head and his voice got quieter until he was just mouthing the lie to himself, the way that some of the glee kids rehearsed lyrics to themselves.

Sam stepped closer to Dave, so close that he could smell salt and grease from the Wendy's, and Old Spice. He leaned in, and Dave freaked out and shoved him hard into the door.

"I'M NOT!" Dave roared. He punched the door hard enough to rattle the wall. He had his paws on Sam's shoulders, squeezing hard and shaking Sam and it was sort of giving Sam a headache. Before Sam knew it, there was a dull ache in his brain from where the back of his head smacked the wall from the sheer force of Dave's mouth colliding on his full lips.

Sam might've been slow about certain facts of life staring him in the face (i.e.: Quinn and Finn), but his athletic reflexes took over for him, shoving his hands under Dave's T-shirt and lifting Dave's shirt up before the bigger guy crushed Sam up against the door. He felt Dave gasp into his mouth from the hot and dry slide of skin on skin. The sound made Sam wiggle, and then it was Sam's turn to gasp as something long and hard pressed into the dent between his thigh and his pelvis.

Sam got his leg up and put his hands down Dave's back pockets, pulling and squeezing and moaning as Dave swore and grinded into him. Whereas Sam grabbed Dave's ass, Dave had him in a weird, tender sort of headlock. His big fingers were splayed firmly, but gently around Sam's neck, his thumbs stroking the soft skin behind Sam's ears. The rest of his fingers tangled deliciously in Sam's hair, yanking his head up as Dave practically licked Sam's tonsils.

Sam almost laughed to himself, at the idea of Dave Karofsky playing tonsil hockey with him, except that he was sort of on fire.

"Bed," Sam murmured when Dave started sucking and biting on his neck. He pushed at Dave to make his case, and the pressure made Dave freeze and pull away harshly. Sam made the both of them blush from the obscene sound that left his throat.

"C'mon, Big D," Sam said, his voice all growly and raspy from Dave scoring on his tonsils so many times. He dipped two fingers through Dave's belt loop and tugged lightly. When they were a couple feet from the edge of Sam's bed, Sam took away his fingers and then Dave shoved him again and he landed on his gut, too winded to yelp, as Dave pinned him. Dave's large hands flattened Sam's palms onto the mattress as his hard-on ground into Sam's back, making Sam grind his own erection.

"You like that, Blondie?" Dave growled, and Sam could feel that sneer on Dave's lips as Dave kissed the back of his neck and sucked on Sam's ear.

So that closet that Dave Karofsky was in? Big enough to hold a porn store. God, the things he was doing!

Sam couldn't remember being this hard for Santana, and that was saying something. He was a really crap dancer, but it came naturally to him to rock his hips down and then up on Dave's hard-on. He didn't do it perfectly or suavely, but from the way Dave shook and panted into Sam's wet ear, he did it just fine. Fucking fantastic.

Sam turned his head to look into Dave's face because he wanted to see for himself that he was driving someone crazy. That raw need blazing in Dave's eyes made him lift his ass further up, his hips jerking more frantically, because he saw that Dave was close. Sam practically sucked Dave's lips into his mouth, with how hard he kissed the guy. Dave made sort of a cute snorting sound and then he howled before flopping dully on to Sam's toned back.

"Oof," Sam went, and Dave rolled off of him, off the mattress, his neck bent over the edge of the mattress after his ass hit the floor. Dave's eyes were screwed shut until he heard a noise that he couldn't identify immediately.

Dave turned his head and blearily, through his sex hazed vision, noted that Sam Evans had unbuttoned his jeans, and was desperately jerking himself off, the sound of his cock slapping against his stomach going into Dave's ears and connecting with Dave's libido. His dick twitched and before he knew what he was doing, he had his knees on the mattress and his fist down Sam's boxers, with Sam's fingers curled around his wrist.

When Dave wasn't busy devouring those full, pouty lips, he could hear Sam hissing and groaning in equal turns. "Oh, fuck, tighter, yes fuck fuck yes you-feel-awesome..." For some reason, Dave couldn't quite look him in the eye, so he pawed at Sam's rosy nipples. Sam's hips bucked off the bed and his mouth gaped wide, wide open as his come soaked his boxers and stuck to Dave's hand.

Dave had to bend his head down and kiss Sam again, especially from the way Sam was biting them as Dave slid his fingers gently over Sam's sensitized dick and out of his boxers. There was come beading on the side of Dave's index finger. When Dave stopped kissing him, Sam's mouth was so cavernous, so black that without thinking about it, Dave stuck his finger into Sam's mouth. He nearly came in his pants again, watching Sam lick his own jizz off and then sucking on Dave's finger.

"Hot," Dave grunted. He didn't care that he was drooling, partly because some of the spit on his chin wasn't really his.

Sam didn't quite smile at him, but that shy look of his, despite what they had done, made something rough and dried-up in Dave's chest thump Dave's lungs. They wiped their hands off on Sam's discarded shirt and switched out Pokemon for a hack and slash.

It happened again, when Sam paused the game to slurp the really watered down soda he'd ordered. He barely sucked the straw when the cup was yanked out of his hand.

"Dude! What-"

"I wanna-" Dave's ears were completely red. "Wanna _taste._"

Dave kissed him again, his tongue lapping at the roof of Sam's mouth. When Dave went completely still, Sam gently pulled away. "How's it?"

Sam desperately wanted to shove Dave to the floor, but he waited patiently because he could see the gears cranking round and round in Dave's eyes as the guy thought about whether or not he hated kissing Sam with come in his mouth.

"Not as bad," Dave answered, and then he put his face in his hands. "Oh God. Oh God."

Sam hesitantly put his arm around Dave's quaking shoulders and then he was pulled into Dave's lap into a hug that would have been brutal on a girl. "I'm a homo, Evans. Oh my God, what is my life?"

As Dave sobbed and apologized for so many things, most of all for being born, Sam simply held on and told him that it would be okay, all of it would work out and, duh, he wasn't going to out Dave to the school.

"Calm down, Dave. Calm down. You wanna hear something that I've never told anyone?"

Dave sniffed loudly, made that cute snorting sound again, and Sam resisted the urge to kiss him.

"I don't use lemon juice on my hair," Sam said, a sunny lock of hair catching the light along with his thousand-watt smile.

"You are so full of shit. I fucking knew it," Dave said.

"But you can't tell anyone!" Sam reminded Dave.

"I will, if you won't."

"Deal."

It went without saying that their deal would include a lot of shirt-lifting and making out.

_FIN_

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><p>AN: They could get caught. They could fall in love. Dave could grow up and begin the life-long journey of making amends.

But. Meh. I really don't ship them.

This will stay a one-shot.

Don't own Glee. Pokemon. Or Civ 5 which is a fucking shame, guys.


End file.
